''You're not going out there," a petite woman exclaimed with an alarmed face as I gathered my belongings. ''Sure thing, ma'am," came the response.
It was an inauspicious beginning to our four-day trek of the wet wonderland called the Long Range Traverse. Nestled in Newfoundland's Gros Morne National Park, designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site for its unique combination of quartzite rock and wetland terrain, the Long Range Mountains could very well be one of the last remnants of pristine wilderness within a three-hour flight of Boston.
Yes, wilderness, one of the most misused words in the English language. These days, any green chunk of land the size of a suburban backyard seems to fit the bill. But here on Newfoundland's western coast, a mere hour's drive from the airport in Deer Lake, there are no roads, no power lines. The only sign of humanity tampering with the terrain was the dock we landed on and the two lean-tos we passed.
There are also no manicured trails with wooden signs showing us which way to go and exact mileage to get there. The Long Range Traverse is a nearly 22-mile semicircular route where topographic maps and a compass are needed to find your way among the web of caribou paths. Indeed, caribou and moose far outnumbered the four other backpackers we saw on the traverse.
With a limited amount of time, we decided to hire a guide, Bob Hicks, co-owner of Gros Morne Adventures. A native of Newfoundland, Hicks left a high-tech job in Toronto to lead groups of trampers through these hills. He also takes people on sea-kayaking jaunts in the Gulf of St. Lawrence past minke and beluga whales and a site where Vikings once landed.
Socked in by the inclement weather, we delayed the 2,000-foot ascent until the following day and set up camp for the night. The rain subsided, only to be replaced by the buzz of black flies and mosquitoes. We awoke to the sound of numerous waterfalls, grabbed a bowl of oatmeal, and headed to the far end of a valley where the hardest climb of the traverse was waiting.
